In A Sea Of Silver
by G.N. Took-Baggins
Summary: Post-Streets Of Fire: Oliver Queen has disappeared and Slade Wilson owns the city now. There's seemingly no hope left. {lots of drama, bit of romance and a character death}
1. Chapter 1

**PROLOGUE**

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I opened my mouth, afraid to let go of the words. If I did, would I ever be able to get them back? I don't think so. But in this case it's worth the risk.  
"I love you," I lost the words.  
They were thrown into the scrabble of the city and were pulled along with the cars, the pedestrians, the life. They were torn away from me and dragged down with the filth of humanity. I bit down on my lip and pretended I could see the words go, in my eyes they were a white block, heavy and pointless.  
I watched them dissipate, caught on the wheel of a cab. My eyes found the back of a head, the one that was moving away quickly. I mouthed the words to that head, but with no power behind them, they died on my lips.  
I forced my feet to move and they carried me away from this street corner, I let out a rough breath and looked up at the sky. I wished I could have had the courage to bring those words to life, to be able to let them fly on their own, without me carrying them.  
But they weren't ready, I decided.  
No, not yet.**  
****My unspoken thought: I love you, Laurel Lance.**

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**CHAPTER ONE**

Picture a dark city in near ruins, the sky a black canvas with speckles of silver for stars and a stretch of pale blue right where the sun had abandoned its post. It was quite the sight to behold and always reminded Laurel of a moving painting, because there was no life during the night. There was movement, cars flying by, but no people out. There was no life behind anyone any more, people hid away in their houses and were too terrified to come out. She shook her head, it sickened her what was happening.

She stood frozen at her window for several minutes, watching the condensation dripping from the glass, leaking down like tears. She placed a hand against the window, it was warm from the hot air outside. The rain that battered against the window vibrated it, she could feel it rattling in the frame.

Withdrawing her hand, Laurel shifted away from the window. She sighed softly and rubbed at her stomach, it still hurt after her last encounter with Slade. Shortly after Slade Wilson had unleashed his masked demons on the city, after Sebastian Blood had been found dead, Oliver Queen had disappeared, much like he did after his mother died, but Laurel suspected that something had happened to him and he didn't just abandon them.

Slade had called off his dogs, had them retreat back into the undergrounds, but everyone knew that they were lurking. With the mayor dead, the city belonged to Slade. Everyone was too afraid to refuse, so instead they bowed in compliance. ARGUS had shown up, but they were no match for Slade Wilson, he'd blown their helicopter out of the sky and killed their officers with ease.

That reminded Laurel, she hadn't heard from Diggle or Felicity in 72 hours, in the past few months her and Felicity Smoak had become good friends. She pulled out her mobile phone and sent a text saying:

_How is it down there?_

Laurel, Felicity and Diggle had all grown close, they were Team Arrow and had learned how to take care of each other, learned to dote on each other. She set her phone aside and dropped onto her couch, staring at the wall. _Where are you Ollie? _She thought as she watched the pendulum on her mantel clock swung, ticking and tocking and causing a ruckus.

Closing her eyes and laying her head back she wracked her brain for anything leading to where Oliver might be, it was about the eighteenth time she'd done it since he'd disappeared, but she tried again anyways. She refused to lose hope, she couldn't lose hope. If she lost hope, she'd lose everything.

Sleep nibbled at her ear, whispering the reminder that she hadn't slept well in over a week in the back of her brain. She wanted to shove it away, scream at it to leave her alone, but it persisted. A low sigh slipped out of her mouth and she grabbed her mobile once more. She dialed her father's number, he didn't pick up. She assumed he was busy and put it into her pocket.

Her father and Sara had been fighting to keep the police station independent, but it wasn't worth the fight, the more they resisted, the more officers were slaughtered by Wilson's men. So Sara had moved in with her father and took care of him. He was a detective now and had enough say-so at the precinct that he could at least keep them steady. They told Slade that they'd enforce the law, with the occasional bending, depending on Slade's wishes, provided he didn't harm anymore innocents.

He had been surprisingly compliant. He seemed to be more willing to keep the people alive now that Oliver was gone, in fact if Laurel had been feeling optimistic she'd even go so far as to say that maybe, just maybe, he'd finished his onslaught. But she knew better than that, she knew that he wouldn't stop until Oliver's head rested on a spike in his office.

A shiver crept down her back and she got up. She was tired of thinking about Slade Wilson. She was tired of worrying. She was just tired. Her feet dragged her across her apartment to her bedroom where she threw herself down, with high hopes of being able to get some real sleep, she closed her eyes.

_Sleep,_ it haunted her brain, calling to her, it's icy finger wrapping themselves around her throat. _Come with me and you can sleep._

But Laurel knew that that wasn't a good night's sleep calling, that was all of the nightmares and bad memories that attacked her every night. She knew that if she let her guard down now, she would never be able to sleep. So she dragged herself into an upright position, pulling her legs close to her chest.

The city had turned into a kind of hell, somewhere that no one wanted to be and no one could leave. The weight of the past two weeks came crashing down on her in one big sob. And it didn't stop, she sobbed till her throat hurt, till her chest begged for release from the pain. She sobbed until her cheeks were raw and her eyes were empty. She had no tears left for that night, she'd save them for the next.

Leaning back on her headrest, unable to cry, unable to be sleep, she sat there. Staring out the window into the night, the black night that was heavy with sorrow. The heat in her room was overbearing, but she didn't dare open her window. If she opened it then the smell would come in, the smell of fire and death. There was always a street that was constantly burning and the bodies were always there, looming over them like a weight.

_Oliver, come back. Come back to us, come back for Thea, for Diggle, for Felicity._ She silently begged, but not for herself. Never would she beg for Oliver Queen to come for her, not anymore, she was too angry and too distraught. She felt like she could never love again, like she would never know joy again.

She laid down eventually, but didn't close her eyes. She rolled over and looked at the picture on her nightstand. It was of a young couple, such happiness brimming in their eyes. The girl in the picture was her, with bright eyes and a smile. She didn't even know that girl anymore. The man in the picture had dark hair and a winning grin that still made her want to cry. He was gone now.  
Reaching out she brushed a finger down the frame and whispered to the man, praying that he would hear her.

"Goodnight, Tommy."

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**Well, what'd you think? I know that was short, but I wanted to sum up what has happened so far in the city. I'm kind of taking my own turn with this, so hopefully it turns out good. All reviews are welcome, but please limit the criticism to the constructive kind only.**

**Thanks!**

**~N.**


	2. Chapter 2

"I stretch, I yawn, I'm almost gone when..." Felicity muttered after a loud crash followed by an unsavory word issued behind her. She looked over her shoulder at Diggle, who now knelt on the floor picking up arrows. "Can you not do that so early in the morning?" she asked, though not in a nasty way, and got up to help him.

"Sorry, I didn't realize you didn't get your required beauty sleep," he said, amusement in the under layer of his voice. He felt quite pleased when he saw the hint of a smile on her lips. Felicity wasn't herself anymore, obviously because of Oliver, it just made him sad to watch. "Alright, I gotta go, Lyla and I got a date," he winked and clicked his tongue, backing out of the room.

Felicity pursed her lips and turned back to the computer, staring at her screen. She no longer had work to do, Oliver wasn't here and there was absolutely nothing to do. She let out a breath and grabbed her phone. Chewing on her lip, she went to contacts and tapped Laurel's name, then watched the dialing circle spin around.

"Felicity?" came the soft voice and she could tell her friend was tired.

"Laurel, hi. I just wanted to see, well ask, how you're doing?" she said, trying to sound casual but it mostly came out as concerned, which Laurel did not appreciate.

A sigh crackled through the cell phone speakers. "Felicity, you don't need to worry about me, you know that," Laurel said.

"I know, and I'm not! Worried, that is. I just felt like I should check in, since Oliver was kind of...you know, your ex-boyfriend."

"But he was closer to you," said Laurel, getting her older sister voice out of storage.

Felicity pursed her lips, it was hard to talk about Oliver with Laurel, because both of them had the same feelings for him at some point. Laurel not so much anymore, but Felicity wasn't sure where she stood, not yet.

The phone line buzzed for a minute, the lack of voices must have disturbed it because it sent a staticky feedback to Felicity's ear and she pulled her head back a bit. It was either the silence that bothered it or the fact that she was underground. With a bit of a shrug, she set the phone on the desk, tapping the 'speaker' button and leaned back in her chair. It squeaked.

"You okay?" Laurel asked, sounding desperate for conversation.

Felicity nodded, then remembered that they were having a phone conversation. "Mm-hm," she looked around, trying to find something to spark a thought. "How about finding yourself a man? How's that going, huh?"

"Oh Felicity," Laurel groaned, knowing that her friend meant well but still feeling like a weight pressed on her.

"I know, I know, you don't want to hear it. But I feel like you could do with someone," she said, suddenly feeling bold. "And maybe, just maybe, you'll be able to find someone nice and fun and darn good-looking. You need all of those things."

Laurel sighed heavily. "But I don't think I'm ready," she bit her lip, pretending to be thinking about Oliver, but really thinking about Tommy. It hadn't been long enough.

"Laurel, come on. You need to go out, let's grab Sara and make a night of it, hm?" Felicity asked, knowing that it wasn't normally her that suggested girl's nights, but she knew that someone needed to step up to the plate.

Another groan followed by a loud sigh. "Fine, but don't nag," she said, making Felicity get far more excited than she should have been.

"Really?" came the squeal, Felicity had been desperate for some time off, she just had to warn Dig first.

After hanging up the phone, Felicity spun around in her chair. All alone for a time, what to do? Her fingers danced across the keyboard as she began searching all the satellites and TV stations for something interesting. She flipped through some channels, her min hovering on a report titled 'Man Finds Lost Puppy, Gives It A Home', she thought that was sweet. But she continued flipping through, ignoring the puppies.

However, the report labeled 'Wilson Refuses To Be Mayor' did catch her attention. She clicked on it and a picture of Slade Wilson appeared, Felicity's first reaction was shock, she'd rarely ever seen him before. His skin was a chestnut color and his jet black hair had grey in it, despite him not looking very old. She bit down on her lip and scrolled to read the article. Her eyes skimmed it until she got something very interesting, a statement Wilson had made:

_"I have no intention of being a politician, the city may be under my control, but I do not wish to be engaged in heckling with other ignorant fools. I am in agreement that the city needs a mayor and I believe that a fair voting will bring forth the best candidate."_

A frown crossed Felicity's features and she leaned back. So, Slade wasn't as megalomaniacal as everyone assumed? Looking at this picture of him now she felt like she could pretend to read his thoughts, looking at his eyes she willed him to tell her where Oliver was, knowing that the results would be the same as when she looked at Moira Queen's picture.

Letting out a heavy sigh and shoving her chair away from the desk, Felicity moved over to the rack of arrows next to her. Each one had been used by Oliver at some point, he cared deeply for his arrows and took good care of them, little more than a scratch touched the shafts, showing how careful he was.

Thinking about him now and remembering how he'd stand next to the arrows and place them each in a slot, not letting them bump into each other, left a knot in her stomach. She wished that he'd come home, that he'd return unharmed and tell her that it was all going to be okay, because she didn't feel like it was going to be okay. In fact she felt like it would be just the opposite.

A door shutting came from upstairs and Felicity assumed it was Dig, however his date must have been short. She turned back to her computer, pretending to be busy so Dig wouldn't worry about her staring at the arrows again. When the door opened and footsteps descended the stairs, she called over her shoulder.

"I thought you'd be out all night, you and Lyla haven't seen each other in what? Two months?" Spinning around in her chair, she added, "She was probably eager to spend some time with-" the words died in her throat when she'd finished turning her semi-circle.

Before her was not the huge hug-giving bodyguard that she'd grown to love. It was Deathstroke, clad in his black and orange armor and holding a large katana in one hand, with a pistol in the other. "Alone at last," he purred, the words like poison, deaf to her terrified ears.

She stood up quickly, sending the office chair shooting backwards. "Don't touch me!" she shrieked, backing away. Terror pounded in her chest as it dawned on her that there was no one here to protect her and she had no means to do it herself. She was all alone, with this murderous psychopath.

A chuckle resonated through his mask, giving him a Darth Vader feel. Not that Felicity wanted to feel anything of his, most especially not his sword. He took a step closer, sending her even farther backwards as she retreated to up against her desk. "Seriously, you don't want me. I can't do anything, I have no influence on Oliver, hurting me won't do anything to him," she babbled, then realized how cowardly she sounded.

What was that she'd said to Diggle all those weeks ago? _Slade can kill me if he wants._ Where had that confidence gone, where had that side of her disappeared to? It must have flown off with Oliver, without him, she had no courage whatsoever. She was just a weak shell of a person who had no idea how to do anything, but Slade Wilson must have thought otherwise.

"I have no desire to take you to hurt Oliver, I have other needs for you," he extended a hand and she flinched, expecting an explosion to go off or a missile to fly out of his wrist. But nothing happened, he wasn't threatening her with his hand, he was offering it to her.

She nearly recoiled in disgust, until he said, "Take this."

She stepped forwards, leaning to see what he held. It was a hard drive, black and smooth, resting in his palm. A frown flew by and attached itself to her face. "Why?" she asked, reaching out to touch it, hesitantly like it was a venomous spider.

He thrust it at her till she took it. "I'd like you to have it," he said, drawing his hand back in and turning to go.

"Wait!" Felicity called, turning to set the hard drive down, but by the time she spun back around he was gone. All that was left was a hard drive that she knew nothing about and a smell that made her senses tingle. It was cologne, _The Game by Davidoff,_ she remembered, but there was something else. Blood, he smelled like blood. It made her shiver as she turned to insert the hard drive into her computer.

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**Thank you so much for the reviews! I look forwards to what you guys have to say about this chapter, and don't worry there will be Sara in the next chapter. ;D**

**~N**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey everybody! Apologies for the delayed update, my brain dropped it creativity somewhere, probably down a drain hole. The point is, I didn't do much writing for awhile. But now I have finished this chapter and will start the next one tomorrow or Thursday, so the next update might be late, but remind me to write. Just 'cause having PM's make me feel special. ;D**

**I encourage you to give suggestions, critiques, ideas, etc. I love them all! And you all. :)**

**Thank you for the lovely reviews I've been getting.  
So without further ado, I give you the third chapter you've been waiting for... (or as I like to call it, the introduction of an OC)**

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"Why does it hurt?" came the groan from the pile of blankets. The covers were wrapped around Sara Lance's small figure like a cocoon, making her seem like groundhog, buried in her warm home. Laurel stood at the window, holding the curtains open, letting the light in.

"Because it's light, and it's morning," Laurel said, turning to look at her younger sister, who was blearily peering out of the top of her blankets. A string of unsavory words rippled to the surface of her covers and she wiggled back down to hide her face again. Laurel sighed.

Her sister had never been one for getting out of bed early on Saturday's, when she was younger she'd sleep in and even now that she was an assassin she still acted like a moody teenager when it came to getting up. Surveying the bed and mountain of covers, Laurel gave a fond smile as memories of her sister being a grouchy teen ran through her brain.

Grabbing the corner of the top blanket, the lawyer gave a yank and they slid off, revealing just a sheet with Sara's pajama clad frame nestled underneath. Laurel shook her head and tickled the bottom of her sister's foot, making the woman pull her feet up with a yelp. "I don't want to get up!" Sara whined, "I want to sleep, you rotten sister!"

Laurel laughed and tugged on the sheet, but it was grasped in the firm fist of Sara and a complaining grunt followed an aimless kick. "I'm getting up, I'm getting up...but I won't like it," complained the blonde as she slowly pulled herself upright, running a hand through her mane of blonde wisps that were positioned in a halo around her head, making her look crazed.

Feeling awfully triumphant, Laurel turned and marched from the room, calling over her shoulder sweetly. "Don't worry, I'm happy enough for the both of us!" She made her way into her father's kitchen and began pulling out yogurts, assuming that her father had few good breakfast foods. She shuffled through the fridge some more and ended up getting three yogurts, a glass of orange juice, a full carton of milk and half a box of rice crisp cereal. She sighed.

"Dad's selection of breakfast mostly consists of coffee," said the half asleep voice of Sara as she trudged over to the table and dropped herself into a chair. She was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, reminding Laurel of when she was still in school and wouldn't get dressed till five minutes before she had to go.

Placing a yogurt and the orange juice in front of her, Laurel took the seat opposite, having a yogurt for herself and a small glass of milk. "That doesn't surprise me, he usually gets breakfast on his way to work, he always has," she chuckled. It was surprisingly nice, being able to sit down with her sister and reminisce.

"So what brings you here so early?" Sara asked, looking over at the clock. It read 6:12, meaning that Laurel had come here before heading to work, which must have meant that she had something important to share.

Laurel finished peeling the lid off of her yogurt and throwing it aside before answering. "Felicity wants us to have a girls night out," she said absentmindedly, setting a spoon in the yogurt cup and sitting back.

Sara nodded a bit, taking a drink of juice. "And you had to come here before work to tell me that?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "What's really up, Laurel? Are you okay?"

Looking back at her sister, Laurel gave a shrug. "Nothing, I'm fine," she took a bite of yogurt, her facade of being okay was not working very well, something was eating at her and it wasn't the old milk, which she promptly dumped down the drain and rinsed her mouth.

"Come on," Sara said quietly, starting into her yogurt. "Something's up, what is it?" she watched her older sister carefully, feeling that warm pride in her as she realized just how much Laurel had accomplished in her life.

"It's just- it's..." Laurel stared at the tabletop as she lowered herself back down into it. "It's this whole thing with Oliver, where is he? What happened to him? Sometimes," she swallowed hard and glanced at her sister. She licked her lips and looked back down at the table. "Sometimes I think maybe he ran, maybe he was scared-"

"Laurel."

"-No, hear me out. Maybe he was so scared of what Slade Wilson will do to the ones he loves that he left, maybe he knew somehow that Slade would stop attacking the city if he was gone, what if," she really hoped she didn't sound crazy. "Oliver is in hiding for our protection. He was on the island with Slade, you say, so Ollie must know him really well. And Ollie's smart, he could have planned for this type of thing to happen," she finally stopped for breath.

Sara was watching her closely, seemingly concerned for her by the lowered eyebrows and wary look. "Laurel," she said softly, reaching out to place a hand on top of her sister's. "While I'm glad that you're trying to be optimistic, I've learned from experience that optimism just ends up disappointing. I don't want you to assume the worst, but I don't want you to get your hopes up, okay?"

A sigh and a nod showed Laurel's consent as she leaned back, defeated. Her crazy rant made her brain tired, she'd been overthinking. "You're right," she said, pulling her hand away and standing up. Her eyes shifted to the clock, which read 6:34 now. She had to be at work at 7:00 and it was at least a 18 minute drive.

Gathering her things, Laurel headed for the door, but stopped with her hand on the handle. "Sara," she said, looking over her shoulder to see her sister look up from her breakfast. A smile lingered on Laurel's lips. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"Listening, and not making me seem crazy," she pulled open the door and with one last look at Sara - who had a sad smile and gave a nod - she left her father's apartment, heading for work.

Keeping track of files was difficult work, leaving Laurel tired after work. She listened to the click of her heels down the sidewalk as she approached a corner, she looked around for a taxi of some sort, but the street was nearly empty. Typical. The result of Slade Wilson, there wasn't even a taxi to take her home, and her shoes were killing her.

She stopped once she reached the bench on the corner and she sat down, crossing her legs. She stared down at her suit pants, wishing the heat away. She could feel a dribble of sweat go down the back of her neck, she breathed heavily, feeling the humidity settle in.

With a screech, the StarBus pulled up in front of her. Someone had cleverly named it that because of the city name, but it reminded here of Starbucks, which she could kill for right now. She wasn't allowed to bring food items into work, but they had a coffee machine in the kitchenette. The coffee was terrible, it tasted like someone dragged a dirty sock through mud and then wrung it out to be drunk.

She got up from her bench and boarded the bus, still wishing she had some sort of drink, she felt parched and dried out. It wasn't a pleasant feeling but with the heat, she guessed it was one that she'd have to get used to very soon.

She grabbed onto the handle that was screwed into the ceiling and looked out the window, she sighed softly and longed for some cool wind on her.

Just then, as if God heard her prayer, a gust of cool air brushed her face. She looked in front of her and saw a man flapping some papers, it seemed like he was doing it for her, but in reality he was trying to shift everything he was holding to one hand so he could answer his phone. She gave a smirk, "Do you need some help?" she asked, leaning forwards so she could speak quietly.

A flashing grin appeared on his face and he looked at her. "I'm good, thanks," he said, finally finding a way to tuck his papers and folder under his arm, two pens in his teeth, the handle of his bag was around his neck, a water bottle in his right hand and his left hand fished the phone out of his pocket. He might as well have been an acrobatic juggler, being able to twist his arms around to move everything.

He was tall, not very tall, just taller than her. But everyone was taller than her, she guessed he was a little under 6 feet. His skin was chocolate brown and seemed to be bronze in places where the sun was brightest. His eyes were bright blue, so bright they were almost silver. He had short cropped black hair and a smirk that made her think he was hiding something.

She bit down on her lip as she realized she was staring, he began speaking quickly on the phone, something about a case and an interesting lead. She wasn't paying attention, not wanting to eavesdrop, until he said: "Detective Lance is with me on this one, so I don't believe you have a say. I'm looking into this, Warren, with or without your consent."

He hung up and did another juggle to put his phone back in his pocket.  
Laurel pursed her lips, "Sorry I couldn't help but hear, did you say Lance?" she felt terribly rude, but curiously got the better of her.

Another smile appeared and he nodded. "Yes, I did."

She gave a tiny smile. "He's my dad," she sounded a bit too cheery, but hoped that it didn't bother him.

"Really?" he replied, "He's a good man," he talked like he was 60 years old, but he couldn't have been much older than her.

"Yes," she smiled, "Yes he is. I was just going to see him now," she added, not exactly sure why.

He allowed a grin to slither in and settle on his face. "So was I," somehow, those words gave her a warmth, it filled her and made her smile, much wider than she should have.

With a final note, the bus screeched to a halt and they lurched forwards a bit. The door slid open, showing them the front of the precinct, a rudimentary. They both stepped off, sharing a glance as he opened the door to the police station, allowing her some space to enter. She bowed her head in thanks as she walked in to the building, looking around and squinting slightly as she took in the lights. The near pristine world outside of the precinct had been turned to chaos when they entered.

People in uniforms bustled around, not looking anyone in the eye, seemingly afraid of engaging in a conversation. Laurel wasn't sure who they were afraid of more, Slade Wilson, or her father. Who was standing by his desk, hands on his hips like a politician and barking out orders to everyone. He had an air about him that wasn't there a few months ago, an aura that says "I'm in control, don't mess with me".

She shook her head and marched up to her father. "Dad," she purred, making him turn his frustration on her. Naturally it softened at the sight of her, but it was still there, doing a war dance in the back of his eyes.

"Hey sweetie," he said, the stress showing through his voice, awakening a pity inside her. He moved to his desk and leaned back against it, a sigh bursting out of his mouth like it'd been waiting there all day.

She gave him a bit of a smile, knowing that he was drama queen. "We on for lunch?"

He gave a subtle nod, turning to the papers on his desk and starting to shuffle through them. He immediately started to get distracted. She reached out a hand and grasped his wrist, "Dad, let's go eat."

Looping her arm through his, they spun around and she saw the man from the bus standing there speaking to Sergeant Lungren. "Who is he?" she asked her father.

"That's Remus Ladin, he's a detective sent over from Gotham, to help with the Quinn case," he gave a bit of a nonchalant shrug. His eyes studied her for a minute, taking in every out of place hair and makeup smear. He loved every inch, she was beautiful and reminded him of Dinah, his wife.

A slight nod lifted her chin, the light hit her face, enough for him to see that she had sloppily applied her eyeliner. She must have had a rough night, she often did these days. He wasn't sure what it was, but she seemed to have a resentment towards Oliver that went deeper than his disappearance. He still couldn't figure it out, and he called himself a detective.

She gave his arm a bit of a squeeze and they headed out. She cast one last glance over at her shoulder at Detective Ladin. He caught her gaze and gave a smooth grin, before swiftly spinning on his heel to answer the young officer behind him.


End file.
